


what now I desire above all in my mad heart

by cablesscutie



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Azula healing, F/F, Self-Discovery, have all of my lesbian feelings, no beta we die like men, queer community, this is...really gay y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27809803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cablesscutie/pseuds/cablesscutie
Summary: Azula is twenty one when she leaves the royal palace behind for good.  It is the best decision she has ever made.
Relationships: Azula/Jiang (Avatar), implied past Jiang/Katara, minor/background Zutara
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	what now I desire above all in my mad heart

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this title is from a Sappho poem, specifically “Glittering-Minded deathless Aphrodite”. No, you didn’t ask. But I really need you all to realize how gay this fic is about to be and this is the only sufficient context I can offer. Thanks to the enablers on Discord - apparently I needed this.

_Summer_

Azula is twenty one when she leaves the royal palace behind for good. It has been a long time coming - years of living under the close watch of doctors and nurses, and then even more years of her brother’s hovering and his wife’s nosiness have left her with an itching desire for freedom. There is no point to her presence in the capital any longer. She has no interest in being passed down any of her sister-in-law’s fluffier Fire Lady duties, and though she is allowed to wear her crown and bear the title of “princess,” she had been written out of the line of succession in no uncertain terms even before the birth of her niece. Her brother has offered her lists upon lists of posts within the government, but they are like fake sparrowkeets to be hunted by an owlcat - silly diversions meant to distract a natural predator from its nature. Like the sparrowkeets, they are eventually batted aside. Unlike her stupid doctors or the impressionable brother who listens to them, Azula knows that her craving for the throne was not about the throne itself. She is smarter than all of them, and knows that the gnawing hunger inside her is more than could ever be filled by the petty squabbles and legislative minutiae that Zuzu is so obsessed with.

“I’m bored of this place,” she announces at dinner one night. Her brother meets her eyes, apology already forming on his lips, and she can feel the eyes of his wife boring into her. “I’m going to Ember Island.” Both of her dinner companions relax, and Zuzu smiles at her.

“That sounds like a great idea. We can start making the arrangements immediately.”

“How long were you thinking of staying?” her sister-in-law asks.

“Permanently. I’ve already told my servants to pack all of my belongings.”

“Azula, I don’t know about -”

“I think it’s a great idea.” She has to swallow down her first bitter remark that of course the waterbender would be happy to be rid of her - nobody wants the mad princess getting too close to the precious heir. Theoretically, she knows that Katara does not think this of her anymore, would not have insisted on her holding the squishy squalling newborn otherwise, but it is a hard truth to convince herself of. When Azula turns to look at her sister-in-law, she finds her staring back at Azula with a contemplative expression. “And it just so happens, I know a girl with a boat.”

_Fall_

It takes months before the actual move can take place, and Azula hates every moment of the waiting. She asks her brother weekly why he can’t just order a navy ship to carry her things to the island, but he always reminds her that his wife has taken over the logistics since it is her friend they have contracted to transport Azula and her belongings. She always reminds her brother that his wife is frustratingly inscrutable when she isn’t busy being the biggest bleeding heart the Fire Nation has ever seen and so refuses to be specific about what the holdup is. Summer has all but faded to a memory by the time the ship makes port in Caldera City, which she makes sure to mention to Katara at any given opportunity. It isn’t nearly as effective needling as she is used to, and the Fire Lady just reminds Azula that there really isn’t much variation in the seasons on Ember Island.

Katara and Zuko want to go down to the docks to send Azula off, but she refuses to let them go make a whole tearful scene of it.

“It’s not my _funeral_ , you’re both so sentimental - you deserve each other,” she says, and very kindly does not comment on the positively sickening look they share at that. “I’m taking off to live the life of spoiled luxury.” She is also making a statement once and for all that she is not being _denied_ anything - she simply does not want the same things anymore, but Azula will get what she wants. She always does.

When she arrives at the docks with her handmaids and personal guards, ready to board the ship, she finds a vessel of Earth Kingdom construction. She cocks her head as she studies it, not recognizing the style from her military education or the more recent trading ships. It nags at her, but she does not reach her conclusion until a tall woman with a shaved head strides down the gangplank and boldly asks, “Are you the shipment from the palace?” Azula and her entire entourage are stunned still, all of them - perhaps the princess most of all - waiting to see how she will react. Even the nobles who think she is a monster, or her own family to whom she is a burden, would not speak to her in such a manner, as if she is a crate of tea. She feels a surge of outrage burn in her, but a static shock jolts her, and all of a sudden she remembers that she has to control herself. With a forced deep breath, she lets the blaze cool until she is ice as she pulls her shoulders back and imperiously declares,

“ _I_ am Princess Azula, and _you_ would do well to remember to address me as such.”

The woman steps up to her, seemingly unaffected despite the fact that she can hear the rattle of one of her guards trembling with fear. Then she seizes Azula’s hand and bows over it in a manner that seems to mock the very notion of bowing at all. The princess tenses to yank her hand away before she lashes out more drastically, but the feeling of the woman’s lips pressing fleetingly to the back of her hand freezes her in shock. Straightening again and squeezing Azula’s fingers ever so slightly, the stranger finally lets go and says,

“Pleasure to meet you, Princess. Name’s Jiang, and I’m the captain of this flying circus,” she nods to the ship, and then deftly sidesteps a piece of fruit that is hurled overboard by a heavily tattooed man. Some of the juice spatters the polished toes of Azula’s boots, and as one of her maids rushes to kneel and wipe them clean again, the captain raises her slit eyebrow in an expression that says, _Can you believe this shit?_ Azula does not understand the expression - of course she can believe it, this is to be expected when royalty is soiled. What she does understand, is exactly what kind of friend her brother’s wife has turned up from her checkered past.

“Pirates. How charming,” the princess sneers.

“We’re legit traders these days,” Jiang protests, but as she turns to lead them aboard, she shoots Azula a wink and says, “Most days.” A shiver of something like anticipation runs down Azula’s spine as she marches after the captain. Clearly it’s been too long since she last had anything resembling an adventure.

_Winter_

Ember Island in winter can best be described as _sleepy_ if one is being generous. Princess Azula, who is rarely generous, calls it _torpid_ in a letter to her brother. Zuzu, in his perpetually misguided attempts to shove happiness down her throat, asks her if she would like to come for a visit. _Katara’s family is coming up for the solstice festivals and Kya’s grown so much since you last saw her. We’d love to see you._ She declines without further explanation. Why he thinks she would be as endlessly fascinated by a wailing infant and his wife’s boisterously affectionate family as he is escapes her entirely. Clearly her brother thinks her pathetically lonely, but she is far from it. Bored to absolute tears is what she is. Azula’s days are filled with tanning and swimming and spa treatments. Handsome second and third sons from prominent families take her to drunken house parties, lavish dinners, nights at the theater. She is surrounded by people eager to care for her every whim, and who hang on her every word when she speaks. She has never been so thoroughly unchallenged in her entire life.

The first bit of excitement she’s had in months comes when she is strolling the boutiques in the upscale part of town, escorted by a handsome Navy lieutenant. Pushing out of the apothecary with a crate in her arms is the coarse pirate captain that brought her to Ember Island, and by chance, their eyes meet. Azula’s heart skips into panic, and before she can get upset that she wants to do something as undignified as hide in an alley to escape the notice of a peasant, the pirate is waving and calling, “Hey, Princess!” Azula is not bound by any sense of social convention. She flat out told her brother that his family is boring. She met her current date because he’d been more interesting than the date she’d brought to a party and promptly shooed the man home. Yet for some unfathomable reason, she finds herself behaving in a manner that she thought she’d left behind during the first odious house party she’d attended when she was but a mere child. She waves back.

“Hello!” She says, which she immediately realizes is a mistake, because the woman starts walking towards them, and now her date is going to think that she associates herself with people like this. Why couldn’t her nosy sister-in-law keep her terrible taste in friends to herself instead of always making it Azula’s problem?

“Fancy meeting you here. Who’s the tin can?” she asks, nodding at the uniformed man at her side. Azula drops his arm as though it has burned her, but introduces him as “Lieutenant Sano.”

“Ah. _Captain_ Jiang,” she says, her bow coming off as more of a nod with the crate she is still holding. Azula frowns at her language.

“The Fire Nation Navy does not acknowledge the ranks of _your_ kind of captain,” she said, crossing her arms. Jiang’s eyes trail up and down over Azula. The princess is used to being sized up by opponents, but this doesn’t feel nearly as cold as it usually does. She takes the time to observe that Jiang’s hair has been allowed to grow into a fuzzy-looking stubble, and her clothes are masculine and unkempt as ever. Azula certainly does not allow herself to notice the tension making the muscles in Jiang’s arms stand out, nor to wonder just how strong the woman has to be to still be holding the box with such apparent ease.

“I should complain to the Fire Lady about that then,” Jiang says, and the mention of the waterbender should not bother her so, but it displeases her nonetheless.

“What are you even _doing_ here?”

“Like I said, we’re traders. There’s some rich Earth Kingdom folks who like to get their magic creams and cure-all teas from this place, so for a fee, I come pick them up.” Azula’s mouth twitches, but not to form any particular expression.

Sensing the strange mood, Lieutenant Sano clears his throat and says, “Princess Azula, I believe our show is starting soon. Perhaps we should -”

“Yes,” Azula says, eager to end this conversation and get away from this woman who leaves her feeling so off balance. She isn’t bored anymore. This is what she realizes the moment Jiang turns and starts to walk away. It is what makes Azula call after her, “Wait!” The pirate stops and turns back to face Azula, but doesn’t walk closer.

“What can I do for you, Princess?”

“You find things for people?”

“Yes.”

“And then you bring them to them?”

“That is what trading entails, yes.”

“If I wanted you to find something for me, would you bring it?” There is a loaded silence where she thinks that Jiang might just tell her that nothing could compel her to work for Azula. Finally though, Jiang nods.

“I would.”

“Alright then. I want some of those chocolates with the little seeds in them - the ones that were at the Earth King’s palace.” Jiang huffed a laugh and shook her head, her eyebrows saying _You’re a real piece of work_.

“You got it.” And then she turned around and walked away, her figure refusing to disappear into the crowd.

_Spring_

After Jiang finds the chocolates, they arrive at Azula’s house in care of a deckhand, who looks very anxious when she demands to know, “Why isn’t your captain making the delivery? This is an order from a member of the Fire Nation royal family - have you no concept of _manners_?”

“Uh, I- I don’t know, I was just told to bring this box to this address.”

“Well this is just unacceptable. I must have a word with the captain at once.”

“O- okay? I guess I can show you to the boat then?” Azula orders her palanquin fetched, and rides behind the flustered deckhand, plucking chocolates from the box as they go along. They are just as sweet and slightly smoky as she remembers, melting rich flavor across her tongue.

When she barges into the captain’s quarters, Jiang is reclined on her bed, tossing a moonpeach to herself. She sits up, startled, when the door bangs open. Her tunic hangs loose and askew on her lithe frame, eyes wide at the sight of the irate princess.

“So this is what’s apparently too important for you to complete a contract properly?” A slow grin spreads across her face, almost smug.

“Come on in, Princess. Make yourself at home.” Despite the invitation, Azula doesn’t do more than take a couple of steps inside the door. The lone chair is heaped with clothing, and the bed is the only other seat in the room. “You didn’t turn my messenger boy to ash, did you?” Azula scoffs.

“Of course not. I just thought that since clearly nobody ever taught you how to handle important clientele, you should know that I expect that when I place an order with you, it will be delivered by _you_.”

“I don’t make house calls. You want to get something from me, you come down to the docks and get it yourself.”

“I don’t go to the docks - I don’t go _to_ anyone, anywhere.”

“Well, then you’d better get acquainted with Hien.” Azula grits her teeth.

“I have another order.”

“What’ll it be?”

“My brother once mentioned an Abbey that makes perfume. I want some.”

“You got it.” Jiang bites into the moonpeach, and juice drips down her chin, sliding down her neck. Azula follows the drop with her eyes. _Ugh, why does she just let it keep going_? As she whirls around to leave in disgust, Azula gets the phantom taste of moonpeaches in her mouth. She finishes off her chocolates trying to banish it.

Several weeks pass before a messenger hawk arrives with a note that Azula’s shipment has arrived, and that if she has not come to pick it up in person by mid-afternoon, Hien will be by to drop it off. The indignity of being forced to lower herself enough to visit the docks of all places is compounded by the addition of a deadline. She fumes, but laces up her sandals and calls for her palanquin anyway.

“I was wondering if you’d show,” Jiang’s voice calls from up above the moment Azula steps down onto the dock. “Sweet ride.”

“These are ridiculous terms,” Azula informs her when she is met at the top of the gangplank.

“And yet you’ve accepted them anyway,” Jiang notes, leading Azula not to a cargo hold as she’d expected, but back to her own quarters. A bottle sits on the small desk, and Jiang holds it up to show her the fine glasswork. “You didn’t specify anything about what the perfume is supposed to smell like,” she says, “but I thought this would smell nice on you.” Before Azula can ask what on earth that means, Jiang uncorks the bottle and touches two fingers to the cap where just a drop clings. Already, the scent of the perfume is wafting into the air of the small room, sweet and just a hint spicy. Still, Azula doesn’t stop Jiang from taking hold of her wrist and brushing her fingers over the thin skin on the inside of it. The ghost of her touch lingers, but the princess can’t rub it away because now Jiang lifts Azula’s wrist to her face and inhales, letting her eyes close. Azula is fascinated by the dark sweep of her eyelashes and the shadows they cast on her brown cheeks. It is the most feminine thing about the captain so far, and she finds she quite likes it. “It’s good,” Jiang says, and then gestures for Azula to smell it too.

“It is,” she agrees, even though she hardly pays attention to the breath she takes.

_Summer_

Azula allows Zuko to throw her a birthday party at the Ember Island house, but declines his invitation to her niece’s first birthday at the palace because she is waiting on something important arriving (It’s a pet bird. She isn’t quite sure why she wants one, other than it had sounded like the sort of thing one would want to import). He is hurt, but tries not to show it, and Azula feels a twinge of guilt, but not quite enough to give up one of the fleeting moments she gets to trade barbs and small touches with Jiang. She is still not interested in Zuko’s perfect, loving family, and even with the influx of new faces for the summer, she finds dating has also lost its appeal. Nobody is ever quite alive enough to make her feel something the way Jiang does, and she lately finds herself growing more and more frustrated with pale imitation. Instead, she finds solitude in her hobbies. She has taken up watercolor painting after requesting a palate of rare inks, and music lessons after having Jiang track down something oddly curved and many-stringed based off a sketch she made of something she’d heard played at a concert and liked.

Before returning to the capital, Zuko takes Azula aside and asks her if she is feeling alright. He points out to her that she’s been very isolated, and that her spending - while not remarkably excessive for her - has been rather erratic.

“Tell me brother,” she asks, “If I were really going crazy again, do you think I would send you a detailed ledger of my insanity?”

“Fair point,” he allows. “But promise me you’ll reach out if you need anything? Help, company, another change of scenery - anything.”

“I promise,” she says, neither of them believing her very well - Azula because she is too smart, and Zuko because he has finally learned his lesson about hope and their family.

“I thought songbirds were supposed to be more...musical,” Azula muses when Jiang shows her the creature.

“It’s the music of _life_ , Princess. No good for a ball, but just wait until you hear it every morning. It’ll set your soul free.” It’s flapping around the captain’s quarters, the gilded cage open and empty on her desk. The princess can’t imagine why Jiang would set such a screechy wild thing loose. Then, the pirate whistles, and the bird alights on her shoulder, picking at her earrings with its beak.

“You tamed it,” she says, a little awed despite herself.

“I’m told I have a gift for it.” Jiang points to Azula’s shoulder and whistles twice, and the bird hops over. She can feel the warmth of its small body on her neck, the brush of its tail feathers on her bare shoulder, its tiny claws not quite hurting. It feels so impossibly light. How can a thing so delicate even be alive, much less sing? The pirate, watching her take in the animal, grins. “No extra charge.” Azula feels a strange fluttering in her stomach and says,

“I’m having some new clothing made and the silks available in this tourist trap are unacceptable.”

“You got it.”

_Fall_

Azula’s tailor is dumbfounded when she arrives at their next appointment with her guards laden with bolts of fabric and a scroll covered in sketches in her hand. The princess is always fashionable, as only befits someone of her station, but she has not expressed much in the way of preference beyond that which signals wealth and status. What she proposes does neither. The figures on the paper depict clothing that more strongly resembled the clothes he produces for her brother. The designs are full of sleeveless vests and tunics with plunging necklines and short trousers. Nobody dares argue with Princess Azula though, so he simply says, “Excellent choices, Princess,” and beings taking her measurements.

When she wakes to birdsong on the morning her next shipment is due to arrive, Azula doesn’t know that her soul feels free, but she certainly feels less cranky than usual. She has named the bird Mango, since it seems to have a nearly bottomless appetite for it and she supposes she needs to call it something. Mango sleeps in her cage, but spends most of her day following people around the house. She had refused to do more than squawk occasionally as long as the door remained closed, and Azula is certainly not the one responsible for cleaning up after it, so she leaves it open. It has, she maintains, nothing to do with the kernel of guilt that nagged at her when she looked at the bird so still and silent behind the bars.

Mango comes with her when she goes down to the docks to meet Jiang, flitting from tree to tree and diving through the windows of the palanquin. The princess makes sure to wear one of the outfits she commissioned - a red tunic that exposes all the way down her sternum and black pants with billowing legs that flutter at her ankles. She is excited to show off her new look, certain that Jiang will appreciate the fashion much more than her usual stuffy acquaintances. She is not disappointed when she is greeted on the docks by Jiang whistling loud and appreciative, a teasing lift to her eyebrow as she pointedly stares at the bare skin on display. Mango darts out of nowhere to land on Jiang’s shoulder at the sound, making the pirate laugh. It’s a pretty sound, but not quite music, much like Mango’s singing.

“Looking good, Princess,” Jiang greets her, and Azula tosses her hair.

“I know,” she says, and it gets a laugh, though she hadn’t been meaning to be funny.

“You really are something else.”

“I’m one of a kind.”

“That’s for damn sure.” Azula starts forward, expecting to be welcomed aboard, but frowns when Jiang shakes her head. “You’re gonna have to head up and see Hien. I’m on a tight schedule, and I have a bunch of orders to pick up in the market. You wanna chit-chat, you’re gonna have to come with.” It’s a ridiculous proposal - Azula is a person you _request an appointment_ to see, not someone that gets told to tag along or get lost. Still...she has been looking forward to this visit for quite some time, and now there truly isn’t much else that excites her.

“Fine. You’ve never been in a palanquin before? This should be exciting for you.”

“Uh, uh. You can’t fit that thing around the market. We’re hoofin’ it.” Azula makes a split second decision to call her bluff and nods. After all, she’d hardly been travelling in luxury when she was with Mai and Ty Lee. She’s a princess, but she’s far from dainty.

Jiang hefts a tall wicker basket with leather straps onto her shoulders and grabs a cloth satchel off the deckhand that had been waiting for her, tossing it to Azula. “Welcome aboard, Princess.”

The market is set up close to the docks, narrow aisles are lined with tents, tables, and wooden stalls. Voices ring out hawking wares and haggling. Shoppers bump into Azula, and none of them seem to notice her finery or crown. This is not the sort of place anyone expects to run into someone important. Jiang barks at her to keep up when she lags behind, and then she is shouldering through, following in the pirate’s wake.

Arriving at a shop selling spices, Jiang greets the merchant familiarly, and gets a bright smile in return.

“What are you in the market for?” the graying woman running the booth asks. Jiang gestures to one of the bunches tacked to the top beam.

“Three bunches of the dried chilis, and a pound of cinnamon.”

“Twenty gold pieces.” Azula reached for the bag Jiang had given her, but the pirate held her hand up to stop her and stepped over to obscure the shopkeeper’s view of her.

“Pay no attention to the trainee. That’s obscene. I’ll give you twelve.”

“Ha! I might as well feed them to my chicken-pigs for that price.”

“It’s the off-season now - you’ve got no customers.” Azula feels a spark of interest. This is a game - a game of wits and will at that. Watching Jiang play it is fun, but she bets she could do even better herself.

“What do you call this?” the woman asks, gesturing at the milling crowd all around them. Azula steps up at Jiang’s side and leans against her casually, examining her nails.

“Well _we’re_ the only ones stopped _here_.” She ignores the shopkeeper when she looks up, turning to speak to Jiang. “It’s not exactly an encouraging statement about quality. Maybe we should move on - your clients have _expectations_ , captain.” Jiang turns her head to face Azula, and the princess’s heart stutters at the sudden closeness of her. Mirth twinkles in her eyes, even as her expression remains just as even as Azula’s. She ignores the shopkeeper as well, the two of them now in their own little world.

“They are a pretty demanding bunch,” she agrees, and Azula knows when she is being mocked, but this does not feel like it is meant unkindly. “You might be onto something.” She turns to the woman and says, “We’ll pass.”

To really sell it, Azula takes hold of Jiang’s arm, settling her fingers in the crook of her elbow as though she is being formally escorted, and tugs her away. They have barely turned before the shopkeeper is shouting, “Fifteen!” Jiang turns on her heel, and glances back to Azula. “What do you think, Princess? Does that sound reasonable?” Azula hums consideringly.

“Acceptable.”

As they walk away from the stand, packages settled safely in Jiang’s basket, she leans in closer than strictly necessary and says, “Fast learner.” Azula’s smile is not quite a happy one as she says,

“I’m a prodigy. Haven’t you heard?”

_Winter_

As the season changes, market trips with Jiang become a new part of their routine when the pirate visits. Mango hops between their shoulders and begs for snacks as they wander, ticking items off Jiang’s list. Then, just before the winter solstice, Jiang drops all pretenses of business and asks Azula if she wants to check out a bar with her later.

“A friend recommended it to me a while back, but I haven’t gotten a chance to go. So if you’re interested in exploring…”

“I’m sure I’ve been there - I have rings bigger than this island, and I’m stuck here all the time anyway.”

“A simple ‘no’ would suffice.”

“Actually it wouldn’t, because that’s not what I was saying. All I was saying is if it’s worth visiting, I’ve probably been there before.” Jiang shot her a mischievous smile.

“I don’t think this is the kind of establishment you frequent, Princess.”

Much as Azula hates to admit it later, Jiang was right. She meets the pirate at the docks after sundown, bird reluctantly left at home with a tea cake, wearing a dress for the first time in what feels like ages, strangely nervous to see someone she already knows. Jiang offers her elbow, and Azula takes it gladly - another new part of the routine. They start walking through the market, now mostly closed for the day, and emerge into a part of town that Azula has certainly never been to before. Its main street is lined with a few shops and several taverns, all spilling people and lantern light and music onto the packed dirt.

The one Jiang leads her to is just off the main road, and a little quieter. When her eyes adjust to the dimness, she is surprised to find that all the customers are women. _Oh_. Azula’s upbringing was sheltered, but she got out into the world enough during the war and eavesdropped on enough gossip to have heard of establishments like this - places where women would go to drink and dance and...find company in one another. It would not take someone half as smart as Azula to understand what Jiang is revealing about herself. Being as smart as Azula is, she also understands what Jiang is asking about Azula. She just...doesn’t quite know the answer. A confusing and thrilling kiss with Ty Lee had been the sole instance she had ever allowed herself to wonder. Ever since, Azula has been very carefully un-curious about that part of herself. For a heart-stopping, blood-burning second, she allows herself to wonder what it would be like to ponder this question with Jiang.

Behind the bar, a woman with a severe bun and thickly muscled arms looks up from drying glasses. Despite her appearance, she smiles invitingly and beckons them in. “Come on in and make yourselves at home!” She pats the bar in front of her where a couple of stools are open, and Jiang makes a beeline for them. The smile on her face and the set of her shoulders is new to Azula. It occurs to her that he has never seen Jiang entirely at ease before. “What can I get ya, honey?” the bartender asks Jiang, her eyes warm and almost motherly in the face of the captain’s wondering smile.

“Whatever’s good,” she says, and Azula raises an eyebrow at her. It doesn’t seem like her to have no opinion, even more unlike her when she makes an excited sound and claps when a fruity, highly decorated cocktail is placed in front of her.

“How about you, sweetheart?” the bartender says, and Azula stares blankly back at her for a beat before it registers that _she_ is supposed to be “sweetheart”. _Well that’s a bit of a misnomer_ , she thinks, but says, “I’ll have what she’s having,” on a whim.

The drink is delicious - ice cold and full of fruits and sweet liquor, and Azula can’t help but make her own pleased sound at the first sip. Jiang laughs.

“So good, right?” Straw already back in her mouth, Azula just nods.

They are trying a second mystery drink when Azula’s loosened tongue asks, “How does a person like you end up getting hired to move the Fire Lord’s sister?”

“Personal favor to the Fire Lady,” she answers easily.

“Oh?” Jiang gives her a significant look as she sips her drink, and finally says, “Katara and I go way back.” It’s vague - enough plausible deniability that if Azula wasn’t looking for it or if Jiang wanted to refute it, either of them could pretend it didn’t mean anything else. But hardly anybody speaks about the waterbender without _some_ kind of title - Your Majesty, Fire Lady, Lady Katara, Master Katara (she has many) - and the way her voice forms the sounds is the way of someone who only learned to say them gently.

It makes something in Azula’s stomach go cold. “You and her were together?” Azula asks, and tells herself that she only wanted to prove she understood. Jiang laughs, low, with a knowing glint in her eye that Azula instinctively wants to stomp out. “We traveled together for a time,” she says, not quite denying but not quite accepting Azula’s definition of their relationship. “She’s where she wants to be now though.” Azula has spent enough years in dealing in the subtleties of court that she catches the meaning. She finds that a tiny part of her does feel relieved that Zuko’s wife loves him as much as their sickening displays imply. However, it chafes that this does not clarify Jiang’s feelings about Katara.

They drink more, and change the subject, and laugh, and a few times, women come up to Jiang, but she doesn’t go with any of them. Bitterly, Azula wonders if it is the memory of Katara that keeps her from taking up any of the offers.

* * *

Jiang leaves, and Azula returns to the bar.

Again, and again, she asks herself the question.

The bartender calls her “sweetheart” every time.

Sometimes she orders plates of oysters and an assortment of bright cocktails.

Other times, she finds someone to ask her question to.

She finds her answer.

_Spring_

Seated in front of her vanity, Azula stares back at herself and wonders if she is going mad all over again. The shears gleam dangerously in the candlelight. Her heart is racing. But there are no ghosts in the glass with her, and her hands are steady as she sections off the bottom layers of her hair and binds the rest up out of the way. “I am in control,” she says to herself as she raises the blades to a section of hair. _Snip._ A clump of dark hair falls, sliding down her robe, and Azula says again, “I am in control.” _Snip_. The next section falls. On and on she goes like this, until she has cut all of it down to short uneven stumps. Reaching for a comb and razor, she takes a deep breath. “I am in control.”

When her handmaid washes her hair and discovers what she has done, she screams. Azula makes her swear not to tell anyone. The young woman agrees, reluctantly, and every time her knuckles brush over the patch of short fuzz, she looks unsettled. Azula thinks she just has bad taste, because she often finds herself rubbing it with her fingers idly. It always makes her think of Jiang.

When the bartender sees Azula’s hair the next time she comes in, she grins and tells her it looks great. Then, she offers to shave a design in it. Before she can decline, another woman overhears and insists that she should go for it, starting to point out different patrons whose strange hairdos were the handiwork of the bartender. So then everything is moving fast, and she finds herself nodding, and then the bartender fetches a razor and comes around to stand beside Azula.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” she asks.

Azula says, “Fire,” without thinking. There is a long, thoughtful pause, and then a gentle hand cups her skull.

“Hold still.” Metal scrapes softly over her skin, and Azula is terrified and thrilled at the same time. “What do you think?” the bartender asks later as Azula stands with her back to the bathroom mirror, a hand mirror held up to let her see the finished product. It is not quite the flame from her crown and not quite the one from the flag - it is her own symbol.

“It’s perfect,” she says. “Thank you.”

In her next letter to Zuko, Azula encloses her crown and tells him to give it to his daughter. Her head feels oddly light without it, but when she reaches back and traces the curving lines etched into her hair, she does not miss it.

* * *

The next time Jiang comes back, Azula is the one to suggest going to the bar. Her companion’s eyes go wide when she arrives at the docks, her new hairstyle on display and a sleeveless vest shrugged on over her wrapped breasts, a gold embroidered dragon twining around the leg of her blood red pants.

“Nice makeover, Princess” she says, handing over the box containing a gold arm band Azula had wanted commissioned from a woman in the outer islands. She opens it right away and puts it on, not missing the way Jiang’s eyes skate from Azula’s hair to her exposed collarbones, to the gleaming metal coiled around her bicep.

Azula is greeted with a resounding chorus of, “Sweetheart!” Jiang’s jaw drops when Azula raises her hand and waves like a queen. All night, women come up to talk to Azula now. They send her drinks or say it’s good to see her again in a way that implies they’ve seen a lot more of Azula than what’s on show right now. It is not lost on her the way Jiang’s jaw tightens and she sits closer and closer as the night wears on. _Good_ , Azula thinks, and gives her a triumphant look. _How’s that for an answer_? Still, Jiang does not say anything about what may or may not be between the two of them.

_Summer_

When Azula’s birthday comes, she tells her brother that she can’t fit a party into her schedule again this year because she has existing plans. He tells her that if she changes her mind, he can come on the next ferry, but says he hopes she has a good time with her friends. Scarily enough, she thinks he might actually mean it. She wonders what he would think of the sorts of friends she keeps. Katara writes her a separate birthday message that spirals off into a very long and far too sincere ramble about her hoping that Azula has “gotten to know her wonderful self” this year. She wonders if her sister-in-law knows her too well for either of their good.

The bar throws her a party, and she and Jiang drink and dance the night away. For hours, the captain holds Azula, no matter if they are spinning fast with fancy footwork or gliding in slow circles, they are connected. She loses track of all the parts of her body that have the ghosts of hands tingling across them. During one of the slow songs, Jiang leans into Azula’s ear and murmurs, “Have you had a good year, Princess?” There is sweet alcohol on her breath and her hand is hot through the silk of Azula’s shirt. Azula closes her eyes and thinks about the turn of seasons, and finds that for the first time, she thinks things might have actually gotten better. She nods. A hand slides up to rub over the soft fuzz at the back of her head, fingers tracing over the design that has become her new crown. “I have one more thing for you.” The tenderness of the captain’s voice is at odds with the words, and Azula blinks through the haze of cocktails and Jiang’s skin on hers.

“Oh?”

“It’s back on the ship.”

“Oh.”

“So you’ve gotta come pick it up.”

“Those are the rules.”

“Yeah.” Azula catches herself leaning in closer and closer, drawn in by the pull of Jiang’s gaze. Blinking to shake off the thrall, she sees Jiang’s eyes flicker down to her lips just for a second, cheeks flushing. Then she lifts Azula’s hand to her lips and kisses the back of it, just as she had the day they met. “Let’s go.”

The pirate does not release her hand as they walk back to the docks, their fingers tangling easily. Azula’s heart hammers in her chest. _This is it_ , she finally thinks to herself. _This is the moment where someone finally chooses_ me. With the night between them, it feels impossible that there is any other answer.

Letting herself be led up the gangplank and belowdecks in the now-familiar route to Jiang’s quarters, Azula’s heart dislodges itself from her chest and tries to crawl up her throat. The brass key is loud in the lock, and Azula feels certain that the crew members playing cards in the galley can hear the tumblers and possibly her breathing. Inside, the curtains are open to let moonlight spill in, a sea breeze ruffling the white fabric. Jiang holds out a lantern, and Azula lights it with a flick of a finger, searing blue fading into warm gold as the wick catches and the shadows around them are pushed back.

On the desk, a vase of flowers is waiting, big white petals almost seeming to emit their own light. “Happy Birthday.” Azula reaches out and rubs a petal between her fingers. It is velvet smooth, and at her touch, a gently sweet scent floats in the air.

“What are they?” Jiang steps up behind Azula. Her hand fits around Azula’s on the petal, and pulls until their fingers are folded together again.

“They’re called Spirit Tongues. They symbolize eternal longing.” Azula sucks in a breath, and makes herself turn to face Jiang. She wants this so badly, and she is so afraid of letting it slip through her fingers.

“What are you longing for?” she asks, hoping desperately that this is the right question.

“Come with me,” Jiang whispers.

“That’s not an answer.” Azula needs something else. She _cannot_ have this if it is going to be something she will doubt.

“Of course it is.”

“No, it’s not,” She insists. How can she make Jiang see? Azula has played the follower before, thinking that it was because she was wanted, _loved_. She has been wrong before. “Come with you? As what? A tourist? A deckhand?” Jiang observes her quietly, and must read something in her expression, because she nods. She takes a step closer, even though there isn’t really a closer step to take. The toe of one of her boots is wedged between Azula’s sandals and their clothes brush when they breathe.

“ _Azula_ ,” she says, her voice soft and pleading, “I want you. I want to be with you. I want to _love_ you.” All of Azula’s fear leaves her in a rush of breath, and when Jiang leans in for a kiss, she meets her.

_Fall, Winter, Spring, Summer..._

The rising sun and rocking waves wake Azula up. All around her is sea air and warm arms and birdsong. Her soul is free.


End file.
